Margaret Maloney is still on my mind.

From William O’Neil’s report after Margaret’s death we know she lived on Back Row East. In trying to find where that was, my research lead me to Governor Lachlan Macquarie.

Governor Macquarie served as Governor of New South Wales from 1810 until 1821 and one of the first things he did when he arrived was name (re-name) the streets. The new street names were published in the Sydney Gazette on 6 October 1810. This is where we find that Back Row East was henceforth to be known as Phillip Street. This is exciting because Phillip Street still exists, it’s right there below Macquarie Street!

The very same Macquarie Street my younger self would frequently make a beeline down to Mitchell Library (NSW State Library), always making time to stop and rub the nose of the boar.

I can’t wait to walk along Phillip Street again (and Macquarie Street) with the new found knowledge that my ancestors lived and walked there.

I’ve also been thinking about Margaret’s resting place.

In my search for her I have discovered that Sydney Town Hall was built on the grounds that were once the colony’s burial ground, the Old Sydney Burial Ground. It stretched from George Street, to Kent Street, down to Bathurst Street and up to Druitt Street (to the entrance of the Queen Victoria Building)!

Yes they moved the bodies but because in early Sydney there wasn’t anyone officially assigned to keep a register of burials, they could never have been sure that they had moved all the bodies. And indeed in the years to come, in that city block and surrounds, with further building, excavations and pipe work, some grisly encounters were had; skulls, bones and graves.

I mean some valuable archeological finds!

Many times I’ve used the underground train station at Town Hall, thinking about it I do remember it being a bit spooky down there!

The Old Sydney Burial Ground was used from 1792 and closed in 1820.

Our Margaret Maloney, living just streets away on Back Row East, died in 1804, was she buried there in the Old Sydney Burial Ground? Sadly no records exist to confirm or deny, but I feel certain of it.

In 1869, to build the Town Hall, they exhumed what remains they found and moved them to the new Necropolis (‘city of the dead’) at Haslem’s Creek, this cemetery, now known has Rookwood Necropolis is the oldest and largest still operating cemetery from the Victorian era stretching across 286 acres.

I do wonder where Margaret is now? Is she still resting somewhere in the heart of Sydney? Or was she moved to the new resting place? Personally I hope she was moved to the peaceful surrounds of Rookwood.

When the Old Sydney Burial Ground was full and closed in 1820, they opened another burial ground just down the road (today the platforms of Central Station sit on top of where people’s loved ones were once interred). It was known as the Devonshire Street Cemetery. Full in 1867, it was closed and the bodies were exhumed and the majority moved to Bunnerong Cemetery which is now known as Botany Cemetery.

Central Railway Station, opened in 1906, is an above ground station, so not half as spooky as Town Hall Station.

However, there is a 300 metre underground walkway (tiled from floor to ceiling), the Devonshire Street Tunnel, that cuts through the old burial ground. I used it frequently to get to University. It was fine to walk during busy times, surrounded by people. But quiet times? Not such fun! I remember instincts speeding my footsteps and sometimes hearing sounds behind me, glancing back to find no-one there, at the time it was a relief to discover the tunnel stretching empty behind me…but that was before I knew!!

Happy Halloween 🎃

Autumn welcomed us to Adelaide, it was like arriving in my own personal heaven, streets lined with historical avenues of deciduous trees every day turning even more brilliant colours of my favourite season.

This post is an ode to Margaret Maloney, my Great x5 Grandmother.

I remember, as a child, asking my mother if we had any convicts in our family. She said, ‘yes’, my eyes wide, ‘really! What did they do?’. ‘Stole a cow’, my mother replied.

I don’t know if my mother was having fun with me, or if there is any truth to it, I certainly haven’t found anything to prove or disprove it…yet…

But I have found some convicts, let me introduce you to Margaret Maloney 🍀

Margaret was born in Ireland in 1771.

Her parents, siblings and childhood are mysteries to me, every rock I find I wish for a clue, turn it and find nothing.

Her childhood? At a minimum, I hope she was safe, warm and fed.

We don’t know if Margaret came from a poverty stricken family, middle of the road or a family of note but we do know that her life wasn’t about to get easier.

In April 1792 she was tried for a crime in County Carlow.

There are no surviving records of what she was found guilty of, but guilty she was found and seven years transportation she received.

An explosion destroyed the Irish Public Records Office in 1922, lost that day were thousands of documents, many dating to the 13th century, a trove of historical treasure, including sadly for us, the record of what Margaret Maloney was found guilty of that day in April 1792 (and perhaps more information about her life and family?).

About a year after her arrest, 21 years of age (and 6 months pregnant), she boarded the ship Boddingtons and on 15 February 1793 departed Cork with 19 other female convicts and 125 male convicts, bound for Botany Bay.

At sea in May 1793 Margaret gave birth to a son, John O’Brien. She listed the father as William O’Brien. Another William (O’Neil) features later in her story…I can’t help but wonder if they were the same person?

It was an eventful 173 days journey from Cork to Port Jackson interspersed with alarms of mutinies and conspiracies among both soldiers and convicts.

But, under the charge of Captain Robert Chalmers, a convict ship it remained and on the 7th August, 1793 the Boddingtons sailed safely into Port Jackson, just five years after Arthur Phillip and the First Fleet rowed to shore and set foot on the coastal wilderness that would become Sydney.

Some convict ships had devastating numbers of death, especially the notorious Second Fleet with ships run by the slave traders. Thankfully Boddingtons was not one of those, she dropped anchor at Sydney Cove just one convict less (and four babies more) than when they left and it was reported on their landing that they were mostly in good health.

In September 1793 Margaret baptised her son John in Sydney.

I can find no further record of John O’Brien, it has been suggested by one researcher he died in infancy.

Upon Margaret’s arrival in Sydney, she met John McDuel.

My early research indicated John arrived as a private for the newly established New South Wales Corps in 1791 on the ship Matilda. However, I’ve since found alternate research that suggests he arrived as a convict and upon arrival enlisted as a soldier. To find the truth from the old country, I’m searching shipping records, prison records, military records and court records, but the truth alludes me at the moment…

One thing my research has told me is that the journey onboard Matilda was horrendous, 25 lives lost and the majority of convicts sent directly to the hospital upon arrival ‘the greatest part of them are so emaciated, so worn away by long confinement, or want of food, or from both these causes, that it will be long before they recover their strength, and which many of them never will recover’. Governor Phillip to Lord Grenville, November 5th 1791.

In trying to understand the unfolding (unravelling) of John’s life, I find this information valuable…I wish I could find more about his life before his journey to Port Jackson, his family, siblings, career…to further understand…

Margaret & John’s journey together started with a son, William McDuel (May 1795) and then a daughter, Jemima McDuel (5 November 1796).

Then, like something from your worst nightmare, just days after his daughter was born, John (with several others) was arrested, tried, found guilty and sentenced to death for robbing the public stores.

Two were swiftly put to death on November 30, 1796 and another two followed on December 1, 1796.

Terrifying for John.

Terrifying and devastating for Margaret and her two babies.

But incredibly, on the 12 December, 1796, John and two others were ‘granted a colonial pardon by Governor Hunter when favourable circumstances [were] represented to him, on condition of remaining in the colony’.

I can’t help wonder if, for John, those ‘favourable circumstances’ were Margaret and his two wee babes in arms, William (1) and Jemima (just days old)?

I found this an interesting read from The Works of Jeremy Bentham published 1843:

Suffice to say, John was discharged from the NSW Corps on 25 November, 1976.

I’m super grateful to Governor Hunter for showing mercy to my Great x5 Grandfather that day because two years later my ancestor was born, Lydia McDuel (29 July 1798) and then a little sister, Elizabeth McDuel (1800).

But then some not great news, a record in 1801 of John McDuel owing Richard Tuckwell £5.17.4. I wonder how Margaret was coping?

Then this glimpse into Margaret’s personality…on February 2, 1802 Margaret Maloney & Margaret Murphy were confined by His Excellency’s order for riotous behaviour. They were reprimanded and discharged.

She still had her fighting spirit in 1802 🍀.

I wish I knew what she felt so passionate about that day?

My research revealed these two things happened around that time:

1801 – Governor King introduced a 5 shilling fee for a ‘night’s lodging’ in Sydney’s gaol (the fee was divided between the arresting constables and the gaoler).

1802 – Governor King introduced a tax on ‘strong drinks’ (this was to help pay off the remaining debt of building the new stone Sydney gaol).

I also wonder if this gives us a hint as to what her crime was that warranted seven years transportation? Riot? It’s on the list of common crimes in Ireland at the time…? Or was it the cow…?

Sadly her fighting spirit didn’t last much longer, in 1804 she died, leaving her four young children.

Following her death it was reported that:

…a presentation was made to the Provost Marshal by William Neil stating the death of Mrs McDuel, of the Back Row East [was] in consequence of violent treatment received from her husband. Neil’s declarations were calculated, however they might have been designed, to excite strong suspicion whence, after the most minute enquiry, [the authorities] were decidedly of the opinion that the declaration of the above informant was false, infamous and malicious and that no symptom of violence whatever appeared on the body – and the persons who attended the deceased during her illness protested solemnly when examined separately, that no violence whatever had been offered her.

Neil was summoned, ‘…stood confounded and abashed and returned with a severe reprimand. The deceased had four children, the oldest not more than 8 years old’.

It has been suggested that the man named as William Neil was William O’Neil who had been in prison with Margaret in Carlow. He arrived on the ship Marquis Cornwallis at Port Jackson on 11 February 1796.

I can’t help wondering if William O’Neil was the father of Margaret’s son born at sea? Were they parted young lovers/soulmates. Was he anxious to follow his beloved to Botany Bay, but sadly forced to wait three long years before being put on a ship, only to discover on his arrival that she was with another man, not only pregnant but also with a babe in arms?

Heartbreaking if this was their story.

Whoooaaa there imagination…

Thank you William O’Neil, I am grateful to you for being Margaret’s friend, standing in her corner, loving her and valuing her life enough to stand up and speak the truth. I know you would have known that you couldn’t change anything at that point, or prove anything. I see you a bit like her guardian angel, I have some of those in my life for whom I’m more grateful than words can say.

Okay, back to the facts…

In 1805 we find some more not great news, John McDuel registers a promissory note to Thomas Rose for £9.15.5.

And then in October, 1806 this notice appeared in the Sydney Gazette:

All persons are forbid harbouring, encouraging, employing or accrediting John McDuel, cabinet maker, on any pretence whatever on pain of prosecution with the utmost rigour of the law, as also for a breach of existing Public Orders, the said John McDuel being bound to me by Articles of Indenture the conditions whereof have not been fulfilled. I. Nicholls.

Sadly we then find John McDuel listed as a convict on the 1811 Muster in Hobart, Van Dieman’s Land.

When did they transport him to Van Dieman’s Land?

What happened to the children left behind in Sydney?

Were William and Jemima able look after the younger ones?

Knowing what we know about John, did they have to take on the role of parents when Margaret died in 1804, when they were just 8 & 7?

Did William O’Neil help?

I’ve found it recorded that Lydia had a very strong bond with Jemima and lost her will to live after her beloved big sister passed away. In my heart I believe it was the older children who kept the family together and Jemima became the mother figure.

A couple of months before her 19th birthday Jemima married Edward Eager on July 10, 1815. Edward arrived as a convict in 1811, he came from a land-owning family in Ireland and was a solicitor before he received a death sentence for forgery, with his family’s influence his sentence was commuted to transportation for life. He had a noteworthy life after he received a conditional pardon in 1813, one area of significance was his work surrounding the rights of ex-convicts.

And good news for my ancestor. Reverend George Erskine, the son of 1st Baron Sir Thomas Erskine, arrived in a fast developing Sydney town on June 26th, 1822. Shortly after his arrival our Lydia caught his eye, they were married April 2, 1823 at the Church of St Philip. Published in the Sydney Gazette: “Immediately after the ceremony, the happy pair set out for Windsor”

Rev. George Erskine is mentioned on the Australian Royalty website and the suburb Erskineville in Sydney was named in his honour, it was where he built a home for his family, Erskine Villa, in 1830.

Sometimes when I look in the mirror I see my mother in my expressions, I wonder, could that mean I’m also looking at my grandmother(s) too? Next time I see those expressions I’m going to look closer…

Thank you Margaret Maloney, for so much, your strength, courage, fighting spirit…for your legacy and my tiny place in it.

And thank you too John McDuel, I’m sad your life held so much pain, may the joy that has been born through you rained peace upon you. (John passed away in New Norfolk, Van Dieman’s Land in 1827)

Have a wonderful day!

(most of my research has come from online genealogy sites but there has also been one additional source where I found valuable new snippets of information, Barbara Hall’s self published book, ‘Of Infamous Character, The Convicts of the Boddingtons, Ireland to Botany Bay, 1793’. Thank you for your research Barbara, from a very grateful descendant of a convict who made her journey on the Boddingtons.)

Coals and rusty grate.

Makes me want to take you time traveling.

To 1790, a warm July, to the birth of a baby boy in Reading, England.

My Great Great Great Grandfather, but in that moment, a fresh newborn baby, James Hains Lovell, a life yet to be lived. His hearty wail heard from houses away.

In his mothers arms, filling his peripheral, his mothers face, beautiful, glowing. A healthy boy, first born.

Into what life was he born? What did the world look like? What did their village, house look like?

Did they live in a little standalone weatherboard cottage in the country? A smokey kitchen fire to cook on? A muddy footpath outside their front door that lead to a grassy road with deep muddy carriage tracks?

Or did they live in a Terrace house in town? A single story workers cottage? Stepping out the front door into a busy street, smelly and dirty, refuse and waste, lurking with disease. Wise to watch your footstep or risk treading on something not just unpleasant, but something that could make you sick.

At that time England had a few problems, a massive divide between the rich and poor, not enough food to support the increasing population of the struggling lower class, inadequate manual waste systems, disease. People were dying and starving. Some, to feed their families found their only option was to take what wasn’t there’s to take and before they knew it, they were being shipped off to Australia, Van Diemen’s Land, as convicts, their families left behind to fend for themselves.

At the same time, Napoleon seemed intent on taking over the world.

On Saturday 1st April, 1809, our ancestor, now a strong young man, enlisted. Why did he enlist? Was he patriotic and wanted to fight for his country? History tells us that it was more likely because life was bleak at home and opportunities few.

In my imagination, it was the Redcoats, the British Army, an awe inspiring spectacle as they marched through struggling towns full of hungry town folk, capturing the minds and imaginations of young boys and girls. Handsome in their uniforms, strong and fed.

James fought in the Napoleon war, was sent to many different countries, promoted several times, reached Sergeant-Major at 30 years old, and may have fought under the command of Arthur Wellesley (later named Duke of Wellington after defeating Napoleon in 1815). Tales for another day.

In 1824, to support the expanding Australian colony, his regiment was sent to Van Diemen’s Land to escort a shipment of convicts and provide civil administration (keep them in line)…

As children we learnt about Australia’s convict heritage, we learnt both of the cruelty imposed on convicts, as well as their amazing feats, the city they built, amazing buildings, some of stone, others of beautiful native hardwood timber and paved roads, still there, beautifully withstanding the test of time in old Sydney. Our pyramids.

The cruelty though…the imposers of this cruelty? The guards, the Redcoats?

Records portray Sergeant-Major Lovell as a religious man who ran bible study groups with a large following. Could that mean he had compassion for the convicts and treated them so? I hope so.

James arrived in Sydney in April 1825 and met 18 year old Caroline Amelia Gosney, a free settler, who had arrived days earlier with her sister. They were married on Monday 27 February 1826.

His regiment was sent to India in 1831 (his wife and two children traveled with him). But still suffering from injuries from one of his earlier expeditions, he requested permission in 1832 to return to England with the intention of resigning.

His discharge was granted on Wednesday 12 December 1832, 24 years and 144 days after enlisting.

Just a week after he was discharged, he petitioned the Master General of the Ordnance, seeking support for a position as a Barrack Sergeant.

Lucky for our ancestor, the Master General at the time was his former commanding officer, Sir James Kemp.

The Board of Ordnance was an independent organization responsible for supplying and maintaining military stores, guns, cannons, artillery etc for both the Army and Navy.

The Master of the Ordnance was traditionally a knight, and the most senior positions in the Ordnance held by former army officers. A prestigious and sought after position only considered with impeccable character references from high ranking, well respected, officers.

As Barrack Sergeant, James was sent to Zakynthos (Greece), Kent, London, Sydney, Port Macquarie…

…and here, to Wellington, which is where I’ve been wanting to bring you.

They arrived in Wellington in December 1847.

Wellington had been founded just 8 short years before by English settlers.

I imagine dirt roads, small wooden houses dotted around, close but not too close to the harbour, some complete, some in mid construction, temporary huts, canvas tents with single hessian beds, clothes lines, single lines of rope between two posts, fires in the open with heavy cast iron pots hanging over them, smoking out the laundry, fat well used chopping blocks, piles of fire wood. Elegant heavy English attire and muddy shoes.

Also some larger buildings partly made of wood, brick & clay; the chapel, the merchant stores and army barracks.

A peaceful happy settlement? Smoke spiraling friendly from chimneys?

Of course, there is a lot more to this story, the land the English used to settle Wellington had Maori occupants and no sale agreement had been made. It has been written that, at this moment in time, the Maori & English worked together in Wellington and the Maori helped the English build huts and they traded goods, labour and fresh food…that would be an interesting story to research but it’s not the story I’m telling today.

But we have arrived at our destination.

On Monday 16 October, 1848 at 1.40am there was a terrible earthquake.

In the light of the chilly morning the damage was revealed. Most wood constructed buildings were still standing but their brick chimneys rubble. The brick and clay buildings, some visibly damaged, some now withholding secrets of internal weakness.

Through after shocks, life continued on, shops opened, people continued about their daily business, glancing up at every shake, looking for reassurance in fellow eyes.

James went to work and took two of his young children, William and Amelia. I imagine Amelia skipping ahead and William kicking a stone, excited to be with their father and excited about going to the store with him, just like my daughter is when I take her to work with me.

Was the Barracks intact? Did guns tumble from shelves? Cannon balls roll around? Ammunition spill? Was there still four strong walls?

Were their feet light when they were walking home? Was the sun shining and the afternoon air cool? Was it smokey from the evening fires already preparing the evening meal? Were they holding hands?

It was 3.30pm when they were walking down Farish Street (now known as Victoria Street) toward Manners Street. Just as they were passing Mr Fitzherbert’s store there was a slight shock following by a severe one, in that instant, with a terrible sound, the brick wall of Mr Fitzherbert’s store collapsed onto them.

I imagine him trying to protect his little children with his body as he saw the wall falling toward them, pulling them into his arms and turning his back to the wall. Or were they separated? Was the short sharp command, “run”? Did the try to escape the falling bricks?

They were immediately dug out by the soldiers but Amelia was already dead and William followed at 10.50pm that night.

James’ primary injury was a broken thigh, with flesh torn off his left leg but it was thought that he would live.

But on Friday 20 October, with his wife Caroline at his bedside, 58 years old, James died.

He was buried, with military honours in the Thorndon cemetery.

There is a small plaque inside the little chapel at the cemetery that mentions their sad deaths, the only recorded casualties of the 1848 Wellington earthquake.

But like the warmth and hope that comes with fresh morning rays that effortlessly dismiss darkness, new life, eight months later in Wellington, Caroline gave birth to our Great Great Grandfather, James Hains Lovell Jnr.

Yesterday’s harvest, another two apples (just one left on the tree now) 🌱

Have a wonderful day!

(all the research was done by Peter John Lovell’s and published in his genealogical book ‘A SERGEANT-MAJOR’S LEGACY, James Hains Lovell and His Australian Descendants’)